Banana Split
by thoth-moon
Summary: What does a demon do after prohibition on eating humans? Yomi invites Yusuke to a not so diplomatic dinner, and shows him a not so common centerpiece. If you feel too overwhelmed, the safeword is… Yusuke/Yomi/Kurama, lemon, further warning inside.


It's been a weird year for me, so I thought I'd leave it on a weird note. No joke, this is a straight-up crack piece, with very little aim to it other than to be weird crack. It might also be a little raunchy by some standards, so before you progress further: you've been warned. Anyway:

**Story: **Banana Split

**Characters: **Yusuke, Yomi, and Kurama.

**Summary: **What does a demon do after prohibition on eating humans? Yomi invites Yusuke to a not so diplomatic dinner, and shows him a not so common centerpiece. If you feel too overwhelmed, the safeword is…

**Warnings: **yaoi; threesome; fetish, kind of; language.

**Disclaimer: **He's YT. I'm AC. YT owns Yu Yu Hakusho and the subsequent profit. I own nothing of the sort.

* * *

Banana Split  
December 31, 2008

Yusuke guessed that if he'd finished a stint playing wandering sophist, he'd probably be exceptionably sociable after. And he guessed that if he'd just taken back power he'd previously relinquished, he'd probably be chummy with other diplomats too. But he couldn't guess why Yomi liked _him _especially so much.

This was, what, the fifth time in a month and a half that the Goat lord had offered to wine and dine him in Gandhara? It seemed like he was dining with the governor and his staff more often than he had with his _wife _lately, as Keiko had pointed out to him before his leaving to accept this most recent invitation. But everyone from Hokushin to, reluctantly, Keiko, felt that he _had _to humor this interest in him: his origins basically made him a ningen ambassador, and Yomi was the one King who wouldn't concede to the ban on human consumption. Thus, any non-culinary interest he took in humans, from his employment of Kurama to the special interest he'd shown for Yusuke, should be encouraged.

According to Kurama, Yomi had insisted that the food factor was purely a nationalist device to unify demons into a cosmopolis under him. Food did after all probably supersede anything else that most Makai denizens would have in common. Yusuke could see the logic in it, but the fact that since Enki had become King Yomi had developed a strong affinity for pork made him a little suspicious(1).

Whether Kurama was spending the weekend in Gandhara or not was unknown to him, but he'd yet to see the redhead anywhere. Keshi, who it seemed was his permanent hostess, was the only regular he'd seen yet. "Any idea what's on the menu tonight?' he asked Keshi. She'd worked for Yomi a long time.

"Something exotic from the human world is all I know," was the answer as she let him into the quarters usually given him. Anything from the human world would be exotic. Bacon cheeseburger or sweet and sour pork? Actually neither of those sounded too bad right now.

Luckily it wasn't long before dinner. Except instead of the dining hall, or the tea room, where Yusuke had ate and drank every other time, Keshi directed him toward Yomi's own personal quarters. Silly as it was, suddenly Yusuke got to thinking of fellows like Fritz Haarman and Jeffrey Dahmer(2). "Hey, does Yomi have a private freezer at all?"

Keshi gave him a funny look. "A small one. Just like the one in your suite, Lord Urameshi. Do you need something kept frozen?"

"No, just curious." And he supposed someone would notice the smell soon enough if Yomi chewed through his neck and hid his head under a bunch of newspapers or something.

When the birchwooddoor to Yomi's apartments opened Keshi withdrew after exchanging warm greeting with the governor himself, who closed the door after Yusuke's entry. "What does my having a freezer factor into?" inquired the Lord of Gandhara in a slightly amused tone.

He shrugged. "Thought maybe next time I'd bring a side of bacon as a greeting gift."

Yomi snorted, then turned toward a small corridor, where light leaked under one of the doors. "Our dinner party will be smaller than usual tonight, Urameshi," he said as he led the way. He wore a mauve outfit instead of the gray military coat he wore in the dining hall when there were many diplomats in attendance. Something he'd wear either drinking tea or in a fight, ironically. Yusuke thought that maybe taking a whiff of anything given him to drink, or eat, probably wasn't a bad idea.

"Is something the matter?" Yomi asked him, pausing outside the lit room in the corridor. "You're usually much more relaxed in my city."

'Don't eat me.' "I just haven't eaten recently." Why did he keep putting food in the demon's head? Fuck, it didn't matter, they were going to dinner right now, weren't they? Trying to loosen up, he followed Yomi into the presumed dining room.

Holy shit, he'd been right—well, close: char siu, a barbecued pork dish, and rice on a traditional low table. To one side sat a jug and some little cups. Okay, so sort of like the tea house…

Except that at the tea house Kurama had been in an adjacent room, not in the middle of the table. And he'd been wearing a lot more clothes. And there hadn't been an apple stuffed in his mouth.

Okay, so that wasn't an apple—it was a red ball gag. Still pretty weird. He couldn't stop staring at Kurama, and would have tried making eye contact with him to get some sort of spin on the situation. A calm gaze just might mean that dinner would be really, really, obviously weird. Frantic darting around would probably mean "Get the fuck out of here," or "Help!" But Fox-boy was blindfolded. That and an open tunic were the only things that he was wearing; Yusuke didn't count the leather thongs as clothing. "_Uh?_" he managed, still staring. Kurama shifted just a little. Well, good to get confirmation that he was alive.

"I would imagine that you'll find eating your dinner much easier sitting than standing," Yomi remarked nonchalantly, taking his seat on the opposite side of the table, and Kurama. Yusuke managed to follow suit, trying to keep his eyes off the gap between the front and back of his bound companion's tunic. Yomi had already begun to eat. Still getting a grasp on just what the hell was going on, Yusuke picked up his chopsticks, and found no sauce bowl to dip the pork in. Around the ball gag Kurama managed a muffled "Mmf," making Yusuke look up at the spectacle on the table. His eyes bugged.

Holy shit.

Lifting up the skirt of the tunic, Yomi folded it back over onto Kurama's torso, showing the redhead's underwear. Underwear. He figured that technically was what it was. It was some leather thing that fit, _snugly_: basically acting as a scabbard for Kurama's penis. Except for the head, which was leaking. It was the pearly precum that Yomi dipped his meat into, smearing the morsel right over the tip. Another "Mmf" from Kurama, louder and more emphatic, and he fidgeted more. On the tabletop Yusuke saw his hand fist and move a little, but it appeared to be restrained.

"You're not eating, Urameshi," Yomi noted, after he had chewed and swallowed his bite of pork. "If it's a condiment issue, the sauce is meant to be shared."

_Holy shit._

Kurama wasn't resisting at all. The only movement he made was the flexing and groaning that was reflexive in this situation. It was too bizarre. "Kurama—"

"Makes a unique centerpiece, doesn't he?" Yomi interrupted, and that was the only acknowledgment verbalized of the advisor bound and molested on the table. "I apologize, Urameshi," he said now. "You must be thirsty." He poured what Yusuke thought was tea, and found out was sake, into the cups and set one beside Yusuke's plate. And then, after folding back Kurama's tunic further, emptied his own cup around Kurama's navel, and drank via licks and laps. For lack of anything to say—Kurama was lying relatively still and Yomi thought this was just "unique"—, Yusuke quietly drank his sake and ate his food while Yomi did his, with Kurama's contribution. His pork Yusuke ate dry.

"If you are satisfied," Yomi said to him when both their plates were empty, "I will bring in dessert. Kurama told me that it is a celebratory food of sorts." Kurama, the unique centerpiece. And saucer. That was fidgeting more now than he had been; his breath had visibly deepened during the meal. Let no servant see him done up like this. Before Yusuke could move to gather everything up, though, Yomi already had, and it appeared that he literally would be the one brining in dessert.

When Yomi was no longer present, never mind that he'd be able to hear nonetheless, Yusuke reached out, and murmured, "Fox-boy?" As soon as Yusuke laid a hand on his chest Kurama's diaphragm inflated, and he arched back and jerked his head to one side. His nipples stuck out through the fabric of his tunic to the pint that Yusuke was having empathy sensations.

Not just in his nipples. He readjusted his seating. There sure as hell was going to be a lot of questions. For example, what the fuck was going through Yomi's and Kurama's heads when they set up for dinner? Looking at Kurama, who couldn't look back or properly talk to him, he eyed those nipples again. "Mmm…!" the redhead whined, wriggling under his fingers when they pinched down curiously.

Behind him Yomi chuckled. He jumped, withdrawing his hand, and turned his attention to the Goat as he entered holding a tray, and placed it on the table. "I am told," Yomi said as he transferred the dessert from tray to dish (Kurama's stomach, of course), "that this is called a banana split."

It was a sundae. "There's no—"

Kurama began to fidget again, stretching out his legs, curling his toes, balling the hand that Yusuke could see into a fist. There was a thong tied round his wrist, that Yusuke suspected ran under him to the other wrist. He'd begun groaning behind the gag again, and tossed himself back, leg muscles going stiff. Due to this his hips had raised up. Yomi's hand was between his legs.

"Allow me a moment, Urameshi," Yomi implored Yusuke, handing him a spoon, setting it in front of him, when he proved too stunned to take it. He would have dropped it anyhow. There was a banana now.

Unpeeled, at least. Yusuke wouldn't be able to continue this humoring bit otherwise. 'What the hell do you two do _privately?_' he wondered, then did his best to dismiss that thought and psych himself up instead.

"To interdimensional communication," Yomi said, taking the first bite.

Fox-boy had a _shitload _of explaining to do.

Right now though his fidgeting and tossing hadn't stopped, and was getting more persistent. Maybe because of the temperature change. Probably cumulative. What passed between Lord Yomi and you this time, Lord Urameshi. Hokushin, do you think you can molest a table?

_Bang! Bang! Bang! _Kurama slapped a rhythm against the tabletop. Promptly Yomi laid down his spoon and pressed a napkin to his lips, and then leaned over, as though this was an everyday thing (_was it?_), and unstrapping the gag pulled it out of Kurama's mouth. Stroking his forehead, Yomi asked him, "Is there something you would like to say?"

Not immediately. Kurama swallowed. His lips shone with saliva. "Banana split," he gasped.

"Very well. Urameshi, are you finished?"

There wasn't much left. "Uh, yeah." Kurama was hungry?

Yomi rose and grasped his hands round Kurama's hips, pulled him closer to the table end, and relieved him of the strange underwear. Then he flipped the redhead over. (Yusuke was right: the thong ran to both wrists.) And unknotted his belt.

"HOLY SH—"

"AAAAH!!" Kurama cried, clawing at the tabletop. Eyes bulging, Yusuke leaned back as Yomi pushed forward, subsequently pushing Kurama forward, toward the Mazoku. Kurama's breath came in rapid, sobbing pants that fell hot on Yusuke's face and neck. His nipples were practically eye-level. Yusuke swallowed. Was he supposed to humor _this?_

The redhead bit his teeth down hard into his lip when Yusuke slid a hand under the tunic, pinched and twisted. Encouraged, Yusuke reached out with his other hand and rubbed it over the other nipples, pert and waiting—begging—for attention. Combined with Yomi plowing him from behind, Kurama only seemed to manage a string of gasping primal gibberish. Yusuke's eyes glazed over as he worked his friend's nipples.

—And widened when he felt a hand, not his, trace the bulge in his pants. Yomi.

Wrapping his left arm around Kurama's waist, Yomi's right hand cupped Yusuke's clothed erection. Yusuke froze when the warlord worked his thumb into the inside of his pants, reached the base of his shaft and stroked it. Froze, at least until Kurama moaned and nudged his chest against Yusuke's hand. Quickly he refocused on the redhead's nipples. After undoing his pants, letting Yomi's hand in. "A-_Ah_," he groaned, rocking his hips.

Kurama came first, crying and then crumpling on the table. His head brushed against Yusuke's leg. The brunette hissed; that didn't help. "C-Come on," he panted, grinding his hips into Yomi's hand, letting out an "_Uhh_…" when he felt more pressure. Half-mast as his eyes were, looking at his companions he was able to perceive a languid expression coming over Kurama's flushed face, the deep creases forming around Yomi's brows. "Heh, huh…"

"Huh … Holy shi-i-i-it!" Yusuke panted, leaning forward and bracing himself on Kurama's shoulder to keep from toppling onto the table. Beneath the sounds of his own exhalations he heard Yomi let out a strangled growl, and then join the chorus of afterglow gasps. Pushing back his hair, Yusuke looked at both of them through confused eyes. "You guys … Seriously?" Afterglow over. "What the fuck?"

Low laughter from Yomi, who slowly rose and readjusted his clothes, and rather than answer him said, "Kurama, I'll bring you a robe and something to wash with. You've had enough of being sticky, I'm sure." The near-naked demon on the table acknowledged this with a tired-sounding "Mm."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Yusuke protested as Yomi slid open the door. "Get back here, you bastard! _What _the _fuck _were you trying to prove, inviting me in to _this?_ Kurama," he looked at the redhead, who seemed to be dozing on the table, or just really slow at getting up. "Could _you_—?"

"I don't eat humans, Urameshi," Yomi interjected humorously. "At least, not in the proscribed manner. Certainly Kurama seems unharmed by it." He waited a moment while Yusuke choked, and cheerfully continued, "Should anyone attempt prosecuting me for my adaptation, I will question the point of protecting a species with a high cannibal population." Yusuke gave him a funny look. Somehow he must have sensed it, or suspected, as a broad smirk took over his face. "But I do like this superglobalization, as it were. You're a breath of fresh air." Unable to respond, Yusuke was only able to stare as Yomi returned to getting the items for Kurama.

Speaking of… "Okay," he said slowly. "Fox-boy, if you're awake over there, fill me in because he is confusing the hell out of me."

"Heh." Slowly Kurama lifted himself up off the table and shifted into a sitting position. "Put simply, I believe that Yomi likes you, and sometimes his manner of expression is complex…"

"No shit," Yusuke said in faux amazement. He liked Kurama, they went way back didn't they, and look at… "Does he usually, I mean, when you guys—?" Wait, no. _No. _Don't ask what went on between those two, fuck it, he wasn't going there.

"Forgive me, Yusuke." Kurama spoke rapidly, in a low voice, face grown rosier. "I wasn't fully aware of his plans for this evening."

Quiet. "So ... Um." Right about now he realized that his pants were still open, started, and zipped up. "Well," he said in his best attempted casual voice, coughed, and asked, "Was it good for you?"

At first he wasn't sure it'd worked. Then Kurama smiled a little. "You have cold hands."

Both of them began to laugh. "Right," he retorted. "Like I'm colder than _ice cream_." Harder laughter. "Hey." For the first time since before dinner Yusuke wore a serious face. "When you say he 'likes' me, what do you…?"

Kurama shrugged and shook his head. Well, okay, Yusuke guessed. People got older, a lot of them got more complex. Case in point: Kurama. So if he really wanted to know, he'd probably have to ask—.

"Here." Yusuke jumped and looked wildly at Yomi as the latter walked to the table where Kurama was, crouched and began washing the redhead's stomach with a cloth. "Urameshi."

"Uh—What?"

Though he could barely see Yomi's face, Yusuke thought he saw the Goat's cheek raise. Great: this was some big giant amusing mindfuck for him. "Thank you for joining us for dinner."

Dinner and a show, he thought dryly. And a hand job, oh shit… "Yeah … Gandhara's choice treatment is, uh." Uh? Uh. What the fuck else could he say? _Interesting _didn't begin to cut it.

"He has a wife in the human world," Kurama murmured as Yomi draped the robe over him. The tone of his voice suggested that he was reminding, not informing.

"I'm patient," replied Yomi nonchalantly.

Yusuke raised an eyebrow. "For _what?_"

"Oh, Urameshi." Yomi spoke as though he'd forgotten Yusuke was there. "Your human dessert was messy and will need more thorough cleaning up. You may stay and help, or take your leave for the night."

No brainer. "Night," he said, hopping up and leaving as quick as he could without it looking like he was running away. Still, behind him he could hear Yomi's chuckling—he had a _sadistic _chuckle, that bastard—and undertones of Kurama admonishing him. Reminding Yusuke: _never _ask about those two, no way, nuh-uh, dinner was enough disclosure to tide him over for a long, long time…

So if Hokushin asked him anything when he got back, the answer was "Classified."

**END.**

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1. The flesh of a pig is supposed to be similar to the flesh of a human. This is one of the reasons that pigs are test candidates for dermatological products for humans. I'm unsure if the taste is supposed to similar too, but I've heard from several sources that the flesh of a mature human is sometimes referred to as "long-pork."

2. Fritz Haarman, aka "The Butcher of Hanover," was a German serial killer who was executed via guillotine in 1925 for the murder of at least 24 men, though some people think he got at least twice that many. He had sex with many of his victims before killing them, and consumed some of their flesh afterward, allegedly selling the leftovers as black market pork. In one case the police searched his home, but only his drawers, and he told them later that there had in fact been the severed head of a recent victim (he had raped the man from behind and chewed through his neck until he was decapitated) in that very room, covered up by some newspapers. (On a slightly weird note, Haarman is my favorite serial killer.)

Jeffrey Dahmer was an American serial killer who killed at least 17 men and boys, and was a rapist, cannibal, and necrophile. Police found body parts stored in various places in his apartment, including his closet and the refrigerator. He was beaten to death by an inmate in 1994.


End file.
